Forever & Almost Always
by puzzl-in
Summary: AU."I'll be seeing you…" - Namine had never been alone, and she didn't realise how much she relied on Roxas until he left. Suddenly she had lost her safety net, and the only way to go was down. RxN ON HIATUS
1. I'll Be Seeing You

**I have just become a Roxas X Namine fan. I don't know what happened, but suddenly i love them, so then the idea for this fic started nagging at me, so i wrote it! There's plenty of drama to come and i've really enjoyed writing this, so i hope it doesn't, like, suck =] and i'm going england on the school thing because i am, in fact, english**

**And this is more of a prologue than a full chapter, so the other chapters will be longer...i hope**

* * *

She loved to hear him sing.

It was something she never dared tell him; but ever since they were little, she would sneak out onto the small veranda of her bedroom, blanketed by the chill of the evening air, and listen to him. He was in the same place most nights; sat atop the slanting roof of his perfectly suburban home, knees hugged to his chest as he watched the stars for inspiration. And she was in the same place most nights, too; hidden beneath the slanted branches of the large oak tree, between their two homes, with her legs folded beneath her as she watched his intensely focused expression. She used to wonder if he knew she was there, hidden from view - if not badly. She thought that maybe he sang for her, to soothe the nightmares that never left her tortured mind. But her imagination wasn't so vivid that she deluded herself with that thought for long. She knew, without a doubt, that she would never hear him sing again if he found out she listened.

Naminé was sitting on the veranda again tonight, waiting. She held a small leaf in her hand, plucked from the oak and almost completely denuded by her tiny fingers. She was wrapped in the familiar warmth and comfort of her blue, knee-length coat, although she wasn't cold. Spring had come and gone, leaving behind no trace of its biting wind as the season melted into the intense heat of Summer. The night air was warm as it wrapped her in its embrace; although, thankfully, it was without the usual suffocating humidity of the day. She was glad for that. But that small shred of gladness was overshadowed by her disappointment, because Roxas wasn't there.

Naminé stole a glance at her watch; delicate and silver - a present from her last birthday - and she sighed sadly. It was almost midnight and she still hadn't heard his voice; and she still had school in the morning. She would see Roxas tomorrow - and most likely every day after that - but, in a way, she cherished the times when she heard him sing. It was Roxas without his guard; without the impenetrable wall which stopped him from ever getting too close to anyone. She liked to see him vulnerable, just to see that he was in fact human. But she couldn't wait any longer, and he was probably asleep already. She was waiting for nothing this time.

Unbuttoning the large black buttons of her coat, Naminé reluctantly retreated back into the cold atmosphere of her bedroom. The room was a typical reflection of her interests: The walls were adorned with painted canvases; some pop art, some real life, some cartoon; mostly of things from school, like teachers screaming or her friends laughing. A blank canvas sat on an easel by the window, waiting for the moment when inspiration would strike and compel her to paint. The rest of the room was fairly empty, though: White walls, pale blue bed sheets, and a cream carpet stained with paint. Most things in her room were stained with paint, though. It drove her parents mad.

Naminé pulled a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from her dresser and quickly changed out of her Destiny High uniform. The waistband of the pleated skirt was itchy against her skin, so she usually changed the moment she arrived home. Although somehow, today, she hadn't found the time.

Dressed for bed, Naminé flicked the light off and carefully crept under her sheets, so as not to wake the rest of the household. She had left the curtains open, like always, so the moonlight could spill in through the window. The silvery rays of light gave her a sense of security. Ever since the nightmares started, she found that they weren't so bad if she fell asleep in a place that she considered safe.

And, for one night, that was enough to help her fall asleep.

There were no dreams.

* * *

Naminé was sitting on the porch the next morning; ready for another day when the last one had barely ended. Her striped tie was pulled tightly around her neck, her shirt was tucked neatly into her skirt, and her knee length socks were completely creaseless. Everything about her was neat, including the 'Head Girl' badge that she kept pinned to her dark blue jumper. The small badge was never given the chance to be crooked, though. A nervous habit always found her straightening it.

Naminé pulled her school bag into her lap and tucked her sketchpad into the sleeve at the back. She had found the time to pluck a few, non-technical images from her mind and roughly sketch them; a coffee mug, a wind chime, a pair of muddy shoes. She made the time to draw before school, just to help her mind concentrate.

A moment later, Naminé heard the sound of crunching gravel and looked up. She readjusted the hem of her skirt for the umpteenth time as she stared out over the garden, her lips forming a weak smile as her best friend headed along the stone path towards her. He looked about as uncomfortable as her, in his own Destiny High uniform of black trousers, a white shirt, blue jumper and tie. He was good at making himself as comfortable as possible, though. The tie hung loosely around his neck, below several open buttons on his shirt, and he held the jumper at his side. It showed the contrast between them, Naminé felt. Roxas; easy and confident. Naminé; awkward and obedient.

Roxas paused at the bottom of the porch stairs, leaving Naminé in his shadow. "Morning," he said simply, offering her a crooked smile.

Naminé squinted up at him, against the harsh glare of the sun. His face was obscured by the bright glow of early morning sunlight, blurring all his features but the bright blue of his eyes.

"Good morning, Roxas," Naminé said, her voice it's usual soft, content tone. She reached out and took his offered hand, and with a light tug he helped her to her feet.

"No Xion today?" Roxas enquired, shooting a quick glance at one of the upstairs windows.

Naminé shook her head and brushed a strand of blonde hair from her eyes. Xion was her sister; her twin. They were identical in all but hair colour, although Xion went through a short period of dying her jet black hair red when they were fourteen. She soon grew out of it, though. Although her hair was still very short, from cutting out the red.

"It's nothing serious," Namine assured him, using a slim hand to shield her eyes from the sun. "She's just got a bad cold."

Roxas pushed out his lower lip and shrugged lazily. "Just you and me, then," he said with a smile. He then hopped to her side and held out his arm, so she could link hers through it. "Shall we go, then?" he asked.

Naminé laughed softly and curled her arm through his. "You seem awfully upbeat for a school day," she noted.

Roxas pulled a face. He kept step with her as they walked back up the path and through the gate at the end of the garden. He made sure to walk slower than usual, so she wouldn't be dragged along behind him. "Don't worry," he murmured. "I'm not upbeat about _school_."

Naminé smiled. "So I'm not imagining it?"

"Imagining what?"

"That you're more cheerful than usual."

Roxas sniffed. "That was a not-so-subtle hint that I'm boring."

"No," Namine laughed. "I meant…"

Roxas raised an eyebrow. "You meant, what?"

Naminé bit down on her bottom lip, awkwardly. The dirt path through the middle of the main island was, if not for them, empty and soundless; but it was rare for more than a few people to be in the same place at once on the islands. The population was so dense that Destiny High had never seen more than a hundred pupils at one time. That small fact, to Naminé, had made the honour of being named Head Girl seem a little less important.

"I _meant_," Naminé said pointedly, with a shy smile, "that I haven't seen you hop in years."

"Is that so?" Roxas said, after a brief pause.

The pause, and the change in his tone didn't go unnoticed by Naminé, who quickly glanced up, searching for his eyes. Roxas, however, didn't move his gaze away from the twisting path at their feet.

"Why are you-?"

"Shit, I forgot my keys," Roxas cut in, before Naminé could finish. He pulled his arm away from her, sharply, and stared back along the path, his eyes narrowed. "I should hurry back before Sora leaves," he said, furrowing his eyebrows as though he were deep in thought. He met Naminé's eyes, very briefly, then he was turning away again. "Will you be OK walking alone?"

Naminé blinked. "U-um…yeah. Sure, I'll be…" But the muttered words trailed off into a deep sigh. Roxas was already gone.

* * *

"Do I look like a child to you?"

Naminé's head shot up at the sound of her friend's irritated voice, her heart suddenly thundering from shock. She had been silently sketching for the better part of her lunch break, sketchpad resting on her bent knees as she leant into a comfortable curve of a tree trunk; near the back in the school grounds. There was always something new to inspire her artistic mind in that spot, hidden beneath thick layers of dark green leaves, with shafts of green light filtering through the gaps in the branches. She was in a world far away from the school, though; and the sudden loud voice in her ear pulled her back to reality a little too harshly.

"What?" Naminé gasped, breathless.

Rikku let out an irritated sigh as she dropped to the ground opposite Naminé, legs and arms crossed stiffly. A short puff of air from her lips moved a stray piece of blonde hair from her eyes. "Donovan called me _little girl_," Rikku said in disgust.

Naminé smiled weakly and leant back against the tree, on impulse folding her sketchpad closed. "That's what he calls everyone," she said with a weak laugh. It was true. The geography teacher called every girl in the school, no matter what age they were, 'Little girl'.

Rikku pursed her lips. "He doesn't call Sora _little girl_," she argued. "Or Roxas, or Riku, or Ven, or-"

"OK," Naminé interrupted her. "You've made you're point."

"No, I don't think I have," Rikku insisted, but suddenly she frowned. "Hey, have you _seen _Sora or the others today?" she asked.

Naminé slightly tilted her to one side. "I saw Roxas before school," she recalled. "But he ran back to his house to pick up his keys. I haven't seen him since."

Rikku pouted. "I hardly see them anymore," she grumbled. "It's like they've all gone antisocial, or something."

Naminé frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't believe you haven't noticed anything weird about those guys," Rikku exclaimed incredulously, gesticulating wildly as she made her point. "Last time I saw Ven was before class last week, and he was acting all weird like he didn't even want to talk to me. And Sora was acting all mushy, like he's about to die, or something. And Roxas…well you spend every waking moment with him, haven't you noticed anything?"

Naminé lowered her head, letting her gaze fall to the blank cover of her sketchpad. "I don't think so…" she muttered, but she knew straight away that it was a lie. However hard it was to see the real Roxas, she still knew him better than anyone else. He was still her best friend and had been since they were six, and it was clear something was wrong. She still remembered the day at playschool, when he came up to her with a huge grin plastered on his round, boyish face. They had never spoken at that point, but that day he had flat out dared her to pour glue over his brother, Sora's, head. And, for reasons she wasn't quite sure of, Naminé accepted the dare, and Sora ended up having all his hair shaved off. Roxas still proclaimed that he didn't stop laughing for a whole year, and that Naminé was his hero for life. But that boy from playschool barely existed anymore. Roxas was more reserved than ever, and more inclined to snap at any direct questions about how he was or how his family were. Sora and Ven were the same, although both of them were far too caring to really snap at anyone. And now that she had been inclined to think of it, Naminé realised that she hadn't seen much of the three brothers - Roxas, Sora and Ven - in weeks.

"I don't know, dude," Rikku sighed, slumping onto her back in the grass. "Maybe Tidus was right, and I'm just paranoid and everything's fine."

Naminé, pushing the thought out of her mind, forced a thin smile. "Yeah," she whispered, tightly gripping the edges of her sketchpad. Roxas's face from that morning flashed through her mind, and the way he had looked at her before he ran back to his house; like he was ashamed.

"Everything's fine…" Naminé breathed.

After that, Naminé found that her day only got worse.

Her thoughts were too far away for her to focus on school work. She lost all concentration in the middle of rehearsals for the school's end of year play. She had a main part, and a lot to remember, and she had managed to forget all of her previously learnt lines. In art, her elbow knocked over a pot of bright purple paint, spilling its contents over her almost perfected canvas. To make matters worse, her teachers only saw it as some personal vendetta against _them_.

"If I knew you weren't even going to bother learning your lines, I would have cast Xion as Alice!"

"That's a whole pot you've wasted that _I'll _have to pay to replace!"

"I don't care if it was an accident, Naminé; if you had kept your bag under your desk, then it wouldn't be there for anyone to trip over!"

It was too much for Naminé, and by the time the school bell rang, signalling the end of another lesson, she'd had enough.

The walk home, although she was glad for the silence, still felt incredibly lonely without Roxas. They walked the same path to and from school every day; sometimes with Ven or Xion, but it was _their_ routine. And since talking to Rikku, there had been an alarm bell screaming in her head. She didn't like to think that Roxas kept secrets from her; but suddenly that seemed very likely. And she still couldn't get his face out of her mind. The image was taunting her, forcing her to see that something was wrong and she had been too stupid to see it.

The gate screeched in protest as Naminé stepped into her front garden. Her house, beside Roxas's, sat right on the edge of the main island, and she could often hear the gentle lapping of waves when it was night and the house was asleep. She could see the beach from the back of the house. It was just a shame that her room was at the front.

Naminé closed the gate and started along the path, kicking a loose stone as she went. Her throat was dry and itchy, and she started to think that she might go to the beach shack and buy a cold drink, but she never finished the thought. She came to an abrupt stop half way along the path, when she saw Roxas sitting on the porch stairs.

He was still in his uniform, she noted, but she knew he hadn't gone to school. They had most classes together, and he hadn't been in one of them today.

Roxas glanced up when he heard her approaching, making no attempt to hide that he was uncomfortable. His usual half-smile was replaced by an awkward frown, and he still refused to meet her eyes for longer than a second. He shuffled to one side as Naminé approached him, leaving the small space required for her to sit beside him.

"You didn't come to school," Naminé pointed out. It was all she could think to say.

Roxas shuffled uncomfortably. "I wasn't meant to go anyway…" he muttered, although he chose to leave the sentence unfinished. But Naminé found that she didn't care.

"Didn't you find your keys?" Naminé said, her voice a harsh whisper as she glared into her lap. She wasn't used to any kind of confrontation, but she wasn't used to being mad at her best friend, either.

Roxas sighed. "Naminé…I'm not going to drag this out, you know I'm not good at this stuff…"

What stuff? Naminé wanted to ask, but suddenly she was too scared to interrupt him in case she never found out what he was going to say.

"But there are a few things I need to tell you first," he went on, awkwardly twirling and steepling his fingers as he spoke. "First of all, I guess you deserve an apology. I…know I haven't been the best…best friend for a long time. You've never kept secrets from me and you deserve the same back, and I haven't told you anything." He sighed. "You _should _know everything, and I'm sorry. That's probably why Ven and Sora always said I shouldn't be best friends with you." He chuckled humourlessly. "I like my secrets to stay secrets, and you trust me with everything. But I just thought you should know that…I _do _trust you."

Naminé was silent, waiting for Roxas to say something else. When he didn't, she took a deep, trembling breath. When did she start shaking? "Why…?" she started, but suddenly she stuttered on a sentence that wouldn't form. "Is something wrong?" she asked feebly.

Roxas breathed a laugh, but he didn't sound amused. He glanced down at his hands, like he might find the answer written across his palms. "Do you remember my dad?" he asked.

That wasn't the answer Naminé had expected, but she went along with him and nodded.

"That cooperation he works for, Shinra, they've transferred him to a place called Twilight Town. It's…er…" Roxas breathed another sombre chuckle. "It's pretty far from here, and…we're all going there to live with him."

"No."

Roxas's head snapped round the instant she spoke and, with a shocked expression, he looked at Naminé for the first time. Her features were contorted with pain and sadness, rather than the soft smile he was used to. Her small hands were bunched into tight fists in her lap, and visibly shaking.

"Nam…" Roxas said softly, feeling impossibly more uncomfortable. He turned towards her and rested his hands over hers, gently prying her fingers open. Naminé snatched her hands away from him, as though his touch burnt her, instead resting them over her stomach. She already felt her chest tightening and the tears stinging her eyes, but she held them back.

Roxas groaned irritably and raked a hand through his hair. "It's not your choice, Nam," he sighed. "I have to be with my family right now, and I can't stay here alone anyway."

"Don't do that," Naminé hissed.

Roxas frowned, confused. "What?"

"You're talking to me like I'm a child," she choked out, although the anger barely registered over her pain. "You're my best friend, and I'm allowed to want you to stay."

Roxas took a deep breath. "I know," he murmured. "I'm just trying to make a screwed up situation seem a little better."

Naminé tried to laugh. What came out was a sob. "You're doing a bad job," she told him, but her voice was breaking with the onset of tears.

Instinctively, Roxas reached out and pulled her trembling form into his arms, holding her more tightly than he had planned. "You'll be fine without me," Roxas assured her, but he soon felt Naminé's head shaking.

"I hope you don't believe that," she muttered.

Roxas didn't answer. He tucked her head under his chin as she curled against his chest, her tears already beginning to stain his shirt. He would have held her for longer, but he just barely had time to tell her he was leaving. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Naminé, but not before placing a soft kiss on her temple.

"Keep that chin up, Nam," he said with a light smile. He brushed a thumb over the damp skin of her cheek, wiping away the tears. "You're sucking the fun out of everything."

Despite herself, Naminé laughed. Her eyes were bright with tears as she looked up at her best friend. She didn't allow the thought to enter her mind, that she might not see him again. "Don't disappear," she said.

Roxas smiled. "I don't have that power," he whispered, his hand slipping back to his side. "I'll come back. I promise."

Naminé swallowed, afraid to even breathe in case the tears came back in a flood. Roxas moved away from her and stood up, and Naminé was shocked by how much she felt his absence. It was as though he was already gone.

Roxas smiled down at her. "I'll be seeing you…" he said.

Naminé nodded. "Will I see you before you leave?" she asked, and she couldn't bring herself to care about the desperation in her voice.

Roxas shook his head, sadly. "We're leaving tonight," he told her. "Except for Sora. He can drive up later, so he's hanging back for a few days, just to say goodbye to his girlfriend. Dad has a fully furnished place in Twilight Town, so most of our stuff is staying behind - for the use of whoever rents the place." He forced a smile. "And for us, when we come back."

Sounds like a dream, Naminé thought. "I hope so," was all she said.

Slowly, Roxas took a few backward steps along the path. He knew that the picture in front of him would never leave his memory; but he didn't want it to. Roxas found that his lips had spread into a wide grin while he was walking, and it was sparked by a particular thought. "You know I can't leave for long," he said, teasingly. Naminé glanced up, eyebrows raised questioningly, and Roxas chuckled. "I can't imagine _Sora_ serenading you from a rooftop."

Naminé gasped at that, but Roxas had already turned away before she could speak.

"Actually," he muttered to himself as he walked back up the path, although Naminé could still hear - just. "I _could_ imagine that…"

* * *

**=] Please Review**


	2. Changes

**Thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate them. I love feedback =)  
Mild Sora angst in this chapter, and bad Sora jokes.**

**

* * *

**

"_Hi, Naminé, it's me; Kairi. I hope you're all right. Call back when you can, OK? I miss you at school."_

"_Hey, Nami, it's Rikku. Where are you? It's like you've fallen off the face of the earth. I'm really sorry about Roxas leaving and all, that sucks. But I'm here if you need to talk."_

"_Hey, it's Selphie. I just heard that Roxas left. I'm so sorry, Nam. I know how close your guys were, and I hope you're all right. I'll try you again tomorrow. Bye."_

The almost identical messages played, of their own accord, to an empty room; with barely minutes between them. Each lowered voice carried the same undertone of sympathy, with an annoying drone to every stretched out syllable - "I'm _soooo_ sorry", "_Heeeeyy_, Nami" "Byyyee". Naminé was getting used to those voices: Pity Voices, she'd come to call them. It was the voice someone might use when giving their condolences at a funeral, or when trying to explain something complex to a young child. Naminé, through no will of her own, was beginning to feel like that child. A deep hole opened up in her stomach at the thought of her best friend, a feeling that ached all the way to her chest. She wanted to call Roxas and scream and cry and demand he come back. She had never been one to bitch and moan when life didn't go her way. In fact, she had always prided herself on her ability to show compassion for others, even when she was suffering herself. But she had never been alone before, and the insufferable feeling of helplessness was slowly confirming her fears that she was, in fact, pathetic. But her desire to pick herself up was heavily outweighed by the nausea in her stomach that had kept her locked inside for two weeks. Because Roxas had been wrong; she _wasn't _fine without him.

At the back of a room splattered with paint stains, the immaculate clean glass doors, to a small balcony, where swung wide open, and a gentle but warm breeze rolled sluggishly in. The inwardly curving railing and stone floor of the veranda were warm, from a days worth of sunlight beating down without relent. It had been an unusually hot day, even for summer on the islands, and most of the islanders had been walking through town waving makeshift fans and wearing clothes that left little to the imagination. The last month of school started after the weekend, and Naminé had already heard the faint echo of excited laughter travelling in with the warm gusts of air. Sprawled across her bed, below the steadily rotating ceiling fan, Namine would hear them and feel a certain, bitter resentment. It was a feeling that didn't sit right with her, but it was one that she couldn't rid herself of. She wanted to be with Kairi and Rikku and Selphie, enjoying the first days of summer. But every thought of leaving the house came with an unwilling groan of protest from the gaping hole in her stomach.

Two weeks; and nothing. Two call-less, email-less, text-less weeks. Something about the voice in the back of her mind, that told her he was just busy with other things, made her feel as though she was suffocating in her own denial. Naminé had never realised just how much she relied on Roxas. It wasn't until now that an awareness of her lack of independence surfaced, and suddenly it occurred to her that she had never picked _herself _up when she was down. Roxas had always done the heavy lifting for her.

At that moment, blanketed by the humidity outside the glass doors, Naminé was comfortably sat in the curved railing of the veranda. The burning heat of the sun stung at her unprotected, porcelain skin; already beginning to leave its mark. If she looked, she would already see the red blemishes along the sensitive skin of her arms and legs, covered only by a pair of shorts and a sleeveless blue shirt. But the harsh touch of the sun, prickling her skin, felt incredibly familiar and safe. It helped to distract her from the problems that were, faster than she could believe, beginning to pile on top of her perfect life. School was nearly over, but she was falling behind at the last hurdle. With teachers chasing her for work, work she had no intention of completing, and final exams approaching that she wasn't nearly prepared for, Naminé felt like she was facing the firing squad. But, suddenly, it all felt so ridiculous to her. Homework and studying had taken up a huge chunk of her life, and what was it all for? So she could lose her drive and fail at the very end. She didn't want to be one of those people who sailed through early life with good grades, only to get stuck in a soul-sucking job. But maybe that was all she had been working towards.

Roxas saw that, and he had disappeared in a cloud of dust.

But it wasn't just Roxas. And it wasn't just school.

It was also the hole burning through the back of her bag, where he sketchpad sat; untouched for weeks. She was very much aware that she hadn't drawn anything since that day under the trees, when she talked to Rikku about Roxas and his brothers. It seemed that any inspiration or desire to draw left her in an instant. It was like Roxas took her talent - the one thing that made her unique - with him to Twilight Town; and she wanted it back. She wanted him back.

Cutting through the middle of the silence, the echo of crunching gravel reached Naminé's ears. The sound gave her a jolt, a sensation that left her heart thundering. A series of pictures flashed though her mind in a moment, like Polaroid's falling from a deck of photos. Roxas; walking towards her in his Destiny High uniform; standing at the foot of the stairs, his face obscured by sunlight; smirking.

On impulse, rather than through curiosity, Naminé cast a downwards glance towards the garden path. For the briefest of moments, her mind played a cruel trick that made her eyes see a head of dishevelled blonde hair. She heard a brisk laugh, soft and musical. She blinked heavily, and the messy blonde hair became light brown spikes. But they were the same bright blue eyes that looked up at her, with an also familiar smirk.

Sora gave an amused chuckle when he saw her; but, in a confused daze, Naminé didn't realise why. Roxas had told her Sora was staying on the islands for a while, to say goodbye to his girlfriend, but she made the assumption that he already left. Kairi hadn't said any different. That was his girlfriend; and, if not for Roxas, Naminé's closest friend. The prospect of her best friend's older brother, and her second best friend becoming and item of sorts had never crossed her mind when she introduced them, nine years ago.

Naminé liked to think it was fate.

"It is the east," Sora called from the garden, his voice laced with sarcastic enthusiasm. His usually pale skin had adopted a light tan, courtesy of the impromptu heat wave, and Naminé found herself struggling to determine where his hairline started. "And Naminé is the sun."

Naminé shrank back, placing a hand on each cheek to hide the embarrassed rush of red to her face. "Hello, Sora," she muttered into her hands.

"Naminé," Sora replied, his lips spread into a grin. "And just what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun," she replied, although it sounded more like a suggestion.

Sora laughed again. He placed a hand on his hip and used the other to shield his eyes from the sun. She could see his eyes squinting at her, just a small fleck of blue visible through the narrow slits. "Your choice of seating doesn't look too…enjoyable," he noted.

Naminé caught her bottom lip between her teeth, awkwardly stressing it. "What are you doing here?" she asked, steering the subject away from her. "I thought you left already."

"Well, it's a wonderful story," Sora assured her, his voice suddenly, incredibly sad. "One I'll gladly share with you, when I can talk below a shout."

Naminé hesitated for a moment, contemplating his words, then she uttered an incoherent, "Oh."

"What?"

"The door's open," Naminé called back, her voice holding a certain amount of caution as it past her smiling lips. "My room's the first on the right."

Sora looked unsure. ""Is that all right?" he asked, sceptical. "I mean, your dad won't be waiting in a rocking chair with a rifle, will he?"

Naminé shook her head. "He's at work."

"Oh." Sora smiled thinly. "I'll be right up, then."

Naminé paused. She waited for the sound of the front door closing, and only then did she allow the fake smile to slip away. She stood up and paced back into the artificial chill of her bedroom, arms folded over her stomach, and pushed the glass doors shut behind her. The cold air danced on her skin as she took several tentative steps across the plush carpet, soft under her bare feet, over to the dresser. Swiftly, she yanked out a thick red sweater and pulled it over her head, the rough fabric itchy against her lightly brunt skin. The idea of being alone in her bedroom with Sora, her best friend's boyfriend, seemed somehow wrong; especially when she was wearing so little. At least the sweater provided her bare skin with a shield.

Naminé had managed to pull on a pair of high-top converses by the time Sora trudged into the room, outwardly disgruntled and dejected, and unashamed by it. From this close, Naminé could see the prominent red lines across the whites of his eyes, the skin beneath bruised with exhaustion. She shuffled closer to the foot of her bed, leaving enough space for him to sit beside her; which he did, with a sigh that sounded an awful lot like defeat.

Naminé was suffering from a terrible sense of déjà vu.

"Well…" Sora murmured, with a cheerless smile. "I'd say you should sit down for this, but I'd just be stalling."

"I'm already sitting down," Naminé pointed out, her eyes scanning his face for something, although she didn't know what.

Sora laughed weakly. "I'm stalling, remember."

"Sorry."

A brief, uncomfortable silence followed; broken only by the ever irritating drone of the ceiling fan.

"So…" Sora said, fighting through the uncomfortable haze between them. He had spent the silence deciding how he should break the news, but he wasn't going to dance around half answers. He put it straight, "It seems I've been dumped."

Naminé gaped. "What?!"

"That's what I said."

"How?" Naminé demanded, her shock far outweighing her discomfort. Last she heard, Kairi was already deciding the details for their fantasy beach wedding. A bit more of a fantasy than they had intended, Naminé thought.

Sora shrugged. He linked his fingers together between his parted knees, slowly pressing his thumbs together as he spoke. "Rather easily, it seems," he muttered, eyes downcast. "I went over to see Kairi last week, to say goodbye, and she said she didn't want a long distance relationship."

"I'm sorry, Sora."

"It's why I'm still here," he went on, sadly. "I've tried fixing things, but she doesn't even want to see me. I really don't get it. I mean, I understand that she doesn't want to be hanging onto us by a phone line, but…" he trailed off, raking both hands through his hair in exasperation. "I told her I love her."

Naminé felt her eyebrows furrow, betraying her pity. "She does love you," she said. Although she doubted her words helped much, she liked to think she was doing _something_ to help. "I know Kairi, and she's just protecting her heart. I think you need to give her some time to sort out her feelings, just don't give up on her."

Sora smiled at the floor. "I think she's already given up on me," he whispered.

Naminé sighed. "Please…"

Sora hesitated, pressing his intertwined fingers to his lips. He couldn't help thinking that Naminé was trying to fill the hole in his heart with false hope. But while he could appreciate her concern, he didn't share the same naïve outlook on things. He knew how badly she was hurting, since Roxas left, and a part of him hoped it would help her see the world in a new light - one that she couldn't manipulate in a sketch.

"Don't worry," he finally said, with the vaguest hint of appreciation in his voice. He cast her a sideways glance, and a smile that only made his sadness all the more obvious. "I won't be giving up, just yet."

* * *

Three weeks later, sitting on the porch stairs, Naminé saw the moving truck pull up outside the house next door.

The heat wave had been and gone, leaving behind no trace of sun or sluggish, warm breezes; Or Sora. He left the islands the same day that Naminé saw him, with an empty promise to tell Roxas she said 'hi'. Regardless, it was almost funny how of all the things she could tell her best friend, she chose 'hi'. Funny…and kind of sad.

It was a cold day for any season; particularly on the edge of the mainland, where the biting winds blew in over the sea in sharp gusts. It was on days like this that most of the islanders retreated into their homes, seeking shelter from weather they were far from prepared for. The clothes stores in town were more accustomed to selling shorts, skirts and spaghetti strap shirts. Because of that, life on the islands came to an almost complete standstill when the weather turned nasty. It was why Naminé requested her father bring her a coat, three years ago, when he asked his daughters what he should bring back from his business trip to Traverse Town.

"Just a coat?" he had asked.

"A blue coat," Naminé had confirmed.

Naminé was wrapped in her faithful blue coat that afternoon, and an-almost-matching scarf - hand-knitted for her last Christmas, by Roxas's grandmother - to shield her from the cold, although she still found herself shivering. Her sketchpad sat comfortably in her lap, under gloved hands, out of habit rather than any anticipation of using it. Even though she hadn't turned the blank cover in weeks, she still carried it with her, like a safety blanket. And it was the edges of said pad that she felt her fingers gripping, when she saw the people who were invading her best friend's home.

As Naminé watched, a minivan pulled up behind the moving truck. The vehicle itself was unspectacular; dark blue and coated in dry dirt. She would have frowned, had she even been able to blink. Her blue eyes scrutinised the car as the doors swung open, one at a time, and four people slid out, stretching their aching limbs after a long drive. She studied them for a moment, curiosity getting the better of her for those few moments. There wasn't much to see, though. She noted, without much interest, that they were just a regular family: two smiling parents, and two bickering children.

Naminé wondered who would have Roxas's room. Knowing another family was going to live in his house was bad enough, but the thought of someone breezing in and taking over his room - his shrine to classic rock - just seemed wrong. She knew that most of what made the room his was already gone, taken to Twilight Town with him, but some of it was still there: Like the wardrobe she helped him decorate when they were thirteen, with stickers and graffiti style words. And the metal-framed single bed they shared, several times, when they were much younger. Naminé could clearly remember sneaking over during the night, when she was no older than eight, using the branches of the old oak to guide her way to the veranda outside his bedroom. It was shortly after The Incident that the nightmares started, and Naminé would wake up to an empty room, striking out at invisible tormenters. It was then that she started what was, for two years, a regular routine for her and Roxas. After the first time he always left the glass doors open for her, so she could climb in and pad her way over the soft carpet, her bare feet barely causing a creak in the floorboards beneath. The first night she tapped on the glass door, shivering from more than the cold, Roxas had laughed at her.

"It's a bit late to be climbing trees, Nam," he'd said, keeping his voice low so he didn't wake anyone else.

Naminé had crept into the warmth of his room through the gap in the door, hugging herself protectively. Roxas, intuitive even then, had frowned at her, his amusement forgotten. "What're you doing here?" he'd asked her. "It's really late."

Naminé, who had always been shy, felt awkward in answering with the truth. But it was what she did. She told him she had a nightmare about The Incident, she was scared, and she needed her friend. Roxas didn't ask what it was about. Instead, he had taken her small hand in his slightly larger one and led her to his bed with the metal frame, decorated with stickers. He allowed her to crawl into the warmth and safety of his bed sheets - printed with stars and half-moons at the time - and laid down beside her, letting her claim the better half of the covers. They were still small enough then that they could fit into the single bed, without nearly tumbling off the edges, and Naminé had welcomed the feel of his warm breath on her face, bringing feeling back to her sore skin that had been battered by the wind. She was already falling asleep again by the time Roxas spoke, his voice low and soothing as it interrupted the silence. "I'm here, Naminé," he had whispered to her, through barely parted lips. "I'm always here."

The promise had made her smile.

Although it was two years later that Naminé's mother finally found her daughter missing from her bedroom. She had already looked around the town, frantically called and visited neighbours, and broke down in tears before she glanced out into the front garden to find Naminé and Roxas walking up the path together, laughing about some joke she didn't care to know. After that, Naminé was grounded and forbidden to leave her room at night. She had cried and complained and threatened to go anyway, to which her parents threatened to stop her seeing Roxas at all.

That was how Naminé's favourite of their many routines ended.

But it seemed she lost him anyway.

Naminé stood up, sketchpad hugged to her chest, and gave one more moment of her attention to the new family. The children chatted excitedly, in voices that wouldn't sound out of place on the play island. The parents exchanged a brief affectionate glance, over a badly sealed box. Naminé resented them already. Swallowing hard, she turned and walked back inside. Her parents were at work, both of them fulltime workers, and her only company was Xion. Not that she was much company. They had never been close, not even when they were younger. Naminé would have liked them to be, but they were too different. Xion found Naminé's naïve and sometimes weak demeanour irritating, while Naminé found Xion's indecisive and sometimes selfish nature saddening. It was all the perfect anecdote for two sisters who were closer to rivals than friends.

Peering into the artificially lit hallway, Naminé almost immediately caught sight of her sister. Xion was sat at the foot of the stairs, her small features contorted into a frown as she stared into a compact mirror.

Naminé made to walk past her, but Xion caught her arm before she could go far.

"Naminé," she said. She didn't call her Nam or Nami, that was too informal. "You'd tell me if I was ugly, right?"

A look of confusion passed over Naminé's face. "You're only as ugly as me."

Xion sighed.

"Who called you ugly?"

Xion sighed again. "Just a guy."

"What guy?"

Xion frowned. "The male kind."

_Let it go_, Naminé thought to herself. It wasn't like Xion would care if someone chose to call her ugly. Well, if she did it would only be because they shared the same face. It wasn't how their relationship worked; it worked on brief compliments as they past on the stairs, or brief nods as they past in the halls at school. Nothing more and nothing less.

That was what Naminé told herself as she continued on her way upstairs, her high-tops padding lightly on the wood.

Xion gave a light giggle. "Roxas thought I was beautiful."

She barely heard it. It was something less than a whisper to Naminé as she reached the landing, but the words still struck her as hard as if they smacked her across the face. And, in all honesty, she wasn't sure why. Sure, Roxas had probably called plenty of girls beautiful, whether he meant it or not. He was a good guy, but he was far from a saint in that way, and Naminé had seen his girlfriends come and go over the years; giving up or given up on. But why did it bother her to think he had said the same thing to Xion?

_Let it go_, Naminé told herself again.

She didn't want to let it go.

"Xion?"

Her sister looked up. At the top of the curving staircase, Naminé peered through the white banisters. "Yes?"

Naminé picked at the white paint, marking the previously flawless wood. "Do you miss them?" she asked, carefully.

Although if Xion was surprised by the question, she didn't show it. She thought for a moment, probably deciding who she meant, before realisation hit her with a droning, "Oh." She smiled. "You mean Roxas?"

"Yeah. And Sora, and Ven."

Xion shrugged limply. "I guess so," she replied thoughtfully. "They were really sweet guys, but I wasn't all that close with them."

"Really?"

Xion nodded. "Doesn't matter now though, right?"

Naminé averted her eyes. "I suppose not."

"Does that bother you?"

"What?"

"That I wasn't close to them."

"Why would it?"

"I don't know."

"Not even Roxas?" Naminé asked, after a short pause.

Xion gave a small laugh. "Hey, he's cute; but he's _your _brother."

Naminé smiled weakly. It would be a long time before she realised what Xion had meant. For now, she was simply struck by the possibility that this was the first willingly pleasant conversation they'd ever had. She stood up. "I'll see you later."

Xion nodded. "Bye, Naminé."

Offering her sister another curt smile, Naminé turned on her heel and padded along the hall, creeping back into her dimly lit bedroom. The curtains were drawn shut, but she didn't care to open them before she fell, face first, onto the bed. Soft fingers of wind trailed through her hair; a soothing, ghostly touch.

Then she fell, and kept on falling.

* * *

"_I'm sticking with you…"_

_Darkness. It came so suddenly that, until the sensation of the light wind on her neck faded, Naminé thought she was still in her bed. She felt that she had fallen through the rabbit hole, although into a world where a mad hatter and a Cheshire cat were the least of her worries. She thought that her eyes were open, but suddenly she couldn't see. The world had faded into a black haze, and all she could do was listen, listen to the lone voice, softly singing, accompanied only by the screeching chain of a park swing. _

"'_Cos I'm made out of glue."_

Screech_._

_Naminé could feel herself moving, back and forth, back and forth. She tried to steady herself, but it seemed her limbs wouldn't obey her. She was a statue, senseless and unmoving._

Screech_._

"_Anything that you might do…"_

Screech.

"_I'm gonna do, too."_

_The small voice didn't know the rest of the song. _

Screech.

"_I'm sticking with you…"_

_Naminé could see the haze beginning to clear. Black became steely grey, then silvery. Blurred figures became solid objects, as her narrowed eyelids crept open: a bright red and green roundabout; a climbing frame, the metal crudely twisted into the shape of a train; another set of swings, beside the one she was sat on._

Screech.

"'_Cos I'm made out of glue."_

_It was her lips that were moving, but she couldn't feel them. She was barely aware of herself, but it all fitted together as the memory reformed, literally in front of her eyes. _

"_Anything that you might do…"_

Screech.

"_I'm gonna do…"_

_Eyes now open wide, Naminé saw the memory recreating itself. It was her own film, stuck on a loop, played through her subconscious. Her tiny hands gripped the metal chains tighter. Her toes scraped the muddy ground, anchoring her back down to earth. From the corner of her eye, Naminé could see the thick braids of her blonde hair, once much longer. _

"_I'm sticking with you…"_

_She could see the boy, standing at the rust encased blue gate, with his wide eyes and parted lips. Her thoughts at the time were much different to now. She had thought he looked kind of stupid; with his dark hair badly cut, and his clothes wrinkled and a little to big. But he was a little bit too skinny. He didn't look much older than her._

"'_Cos I'm made out of glue."_

_The boy stepped forward. He appeared to be limping, on both legs._

"_Anything that you might do…"_

_Naminé noticed her voice growing quieter, singing without wanting to. Her hands gripped the chains impossibly tighter._

"_I'm gonna do-"_

Naminé awoke with a start. She straightened up in her bed, breathless, her limbs caught up in the tangled mess of the blue sheets. The dream ended so suddenly that she imagined the low screech of metal, echoing over a steel grey sky. Although a quick glance around the bedroom assured her that she was safe and, thankfully, alone. She turned her eyes towards the cluttered nightstand. The bright green numbers on the alarm clock flashed in her face, informing her that it was 2:26am.

Naminé sighed deeply. If the nightmare wasn't real, just a wild figment of her imagination, she would write it off as the repercussion of watching too many bad horror movies. But it _was_ real. The dream was a constant reminder of The Incident, the one day in her life she wanted to forget but couldn't. The memory was never far away, just sitting at the back of her mind, waiting until she fell asleep.

Drawing a deep breath, Naminé swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was still fully dressed, blue coat and all, and her hair had become a knotted mess along her back and shoulders while she slept. She felt rather disgusting, and she briefly toyed with the idea of taking a shower, but her exhausted body thought otherwise. Suddenly, she just wanted to sleep. She took off her coat and shoes, pulled her hair into a loose bun and slipped back into bed. She couldn't find the energy to change, and the shower would still be there when she woke up. She needed to sleep.

But, for the moment, Naminé's eyes remained open. It took her a little while to realise why. It was because, for the first time, she wondered what had woken her up. The answer came a moment later; in the form of a sound like chattering teeth. She was too tired to be surprised. Naminé propped herself up on her elbow with intentions that didn't stretch beyond making the noise stop. Her phone was vibrating on the nightstand, hovering dangerously close to the edge. Naminé reached out, suppressing a yawn, and scanned the screen with tired eyes.

**1 New Message**

She frowned. There was only one person who would text her at two in the morning; and that person hadn't even emailed her since he left town.

Stressing her bottom lip, Naminé opened the message.

Just three words.

"I miss you."

* * *

**So...that wasn't as long as i had intended. it was only eight pages on word =S. I'm sorry if some of this seems at all rushed, but i thought i was starting to ramble a bit much =s I know there's a serious lack of Roxas X Namine-ness in this chapter, but it's necessary for the story - which will start to pick up a lot over the next few chapters, starting near the middle of the next, which is pretty Roxas-centric. Drama shall ensue...**

**Please Review =) **


	3. Bullets

**Thanks so much for the reviews! I really appreciate them and i hope i replied to everyone. And i'm just going to point out that I removed song lyrics from this fic, because i felt they were just an excuse to be less creative, if that makes sense at all =) and the surnames I use are stolen from FF games, but that doesn't mean the actual characters will be in the story. Well...maybe**

* * *

"You're mad, aren't you?"

Roxas, leaning against the wall of the train, looked up and shot his brother a sideways glare. "Who said I was mad?"

"All right, so you're this lovely to everyone you're _not mad _at?" Ven asked, raising his eyebrows accusingly. The gesture made him wince as pain shot along his forehead, where a pair of stitches laced a long gash in the skin. It wasn't only that; his whole body hurt from the beating he had been so generously given that morning. He couldn't remember their names, but they liked to call themselves the Twilight Town Disciplinary Committee. Although Ven had learnt the title was more of an excuse than a service to the town. They were the reason he had to spend his Sunday afternoon in hospital, having stitches sown across his forehead.

"If I was mad, I wouldn't hide it," Roxas insisted, speaking through gritted teeth. "What's done is done, right?"

"Nice philosophy," Ven muttered sullenly.

"Thanks."

Ven groaned. "Oh, for the love of-"

"Boys, calm down," said Olette, who had been contentedly staring out the murky windows. She was one of the few people in Twilight Town that Roxas wasn't entirely hostile towards. In fact, he had warmed to her considerably over the last month. She was sweet, Roxas thought. She was the kind of girl you brought home to your parents, who laughed at their bad jokes and played silly games with your little brother or sister. Not particularly deep, but nice enough. "Fighting about a fight seems kind of pointless," she said.

"So does fighting in the first place," Roxas muttered darkly.

Ven, however, barked a laugh. "I knew you were mad!"

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Gold star for you, then."

Ven snorted loud enough to draw attention from several of the other passengers. "Oh, cut the self-righteous act, Roxas," he snapped, his moment of triumph forgotten. "I can't count the times I've had to pull you out of a fight because some guy eye-up Naminé."

Roxas looked at his brother and scoffed. "That's different. I was protecting _her_, you're just protecting your pride."

"You're so full of-"

"Boys!" Olette exclaimed again, although her serious tone was lost to a brief fit of giggles. "Come on, don't fight."

Ven slouched back in his seat, his lower lip jutted out. "He started it."

Roxas stared. "Are you five?"

Ven started to respond when the train drew to a halt, cutting him off with a sharp screech of the rusting tracks. "Let's just go home," he said, standing and burying his hands in his pockets. Roxas and Olette followed him onto the platform, just a few steps behind as they proceeded past the ticket booth and through the station doors to the street. The weather had turned nasty over the last few weeks, and the early evening sky was already fading into a midnight blue behind grey cloud. Looking out over the town, Roxas could see the faint silver glow of a full moon, just peeking through the clouds.

"Who's Naminé?"

"Huh?" Roxas turned to Olette, who hadn't looked at him. "Why?"

"Just curious," she said softly, her bare shoulders giving a light shrug. "I've never heard her name before."

Roxas frowned. "That'd be because I've never said it."

"No need to snap, sourpuss."

Despite himself, Roxas grinned. "I wasn't snapping," he insisted, his tone light. "I'm completely snap-less."

Olette giggled. "All right, grumpy."

Roxas felt his smile slip slightly and he turned his eyes to the ground, watching his feet pad along the slanting path. Twilight Town was a lot smaller than he had first thought, possibly less populated than the islands, and by this time most of the townspeople were at home watching bad TV with their families. The only people on the street were him and Olette; Ven was already a good twenty feet ahead.

"Naminé's just a friend," Roxas said, after a pause that may have been too long.

Olette glanced at him and smiled, her green eyes shining. "Does she live nearby?"

Slowly, Roxas shook his head. "She lives on the islands; my hometown. I, er…" He hesitated, forcing his dry throat to swallow too many unnecessary words. "I don't see her anymore."

"Oh. I'm sorry." She didn't look sorry.

His head was still angled towards the floor when he looked at her, offering a weak smile. "Thanks, but I'd rather you weren't," he said.

Olette recoiled slightly, surprise evident in her tone. "Why?"

Roxas smiled grimly. "Seeing your pity doesn't exactly help."

"Oh…" Olette frowned sadly. "OK."

"Hey," Roxas chuckled. "I didn't mean to upset you. I was just telling you the truth. I don't want you to cry or anything. I'm sorry."

"I'm not crying…" Olette muttered. "OK. I won't ask about her again."

Roxas smiled again and they fell into a silence that was visibly awkward, although only from Olette. Her eyes, glued to the floor, were obviously avoiding Roxas. Roxas, however, looked impossibly more relaxed than the events of the day should allow. Although, he was still looking forward to going home and taking a hot shower to wash off the grime and bad memories of the ridiculously long day. That morning, he had only been awake twenty minutes when his phone started vibrating, with a message from Olette saying Ven was in trouble at the sandlot. He had never been the best runner - he often finished last in races at school - but the biting air of the morning had sliced at his skin as he sprinted through the town, stumbling over his feet and gasping for breath. But the fight was over by the time he arrived to help, and Ven was a bloody mess on the floor for Roxas to clean up.

He wished he didn't feel obligated to help his little brother, but he did.

"Are you OK alone from here?" Roxas asked, his eyes on Olette's.

She nodded, her gaze momentarily flicking to Ven's retreating form. He soon turned a corner, out of sight. "I'll be fine," she said distractedly. "Twilight Town isn't exactly dangerous."

Roxas made an inelegant noise, and Olette realised he was stifling a laugh. "I'm sorry, Olette, but I'm finding that a little hard to believe."

Standing by the town's small café, Olette leant back on the glass wall and sighed. "Just keep Ven away from Seifer and his friends in the future, OK? When they set their sights on someone, it never ends well."

Roxas smiled and nodded. "I'll do that," he murmured. "Goodnight."

She smiled, wishing she had the guts to apologise. "Night, Roxas."

Roxas nodded once more and turned away, heading along the street with his thoughts already drifting away from Olette. Burying his hands in his pockets, Roxas turned his eyes towards the sky. The stars weren't as easily seen in Twilight Town, hidden behind a veil of ugly orange light from the streetlamps. On the islands, they washed over the sky like splashes of silver paint. To watch them was the reason he used to sit on the roof of his old white brick house. To help his best friend sleep was why he would sing, almost every night for ten years.

And perhaps it was the fond memory, the pain in his gut, or the side of him that was selfish; but something made Roxas pause and take out his phone. He didn't think of what he was going to write, but the words that he sent without hesitation were true.

_I miss you._

* * *

"_Let's make a promise."_

"_What?"_

"_You know, all the **best** best friends have a promise."_

"_Like what?"_

"_I don't know…like…'I promise to always be your friend'."_

"_Ha ha. So, not 'I promise not to eat the last pop tart'?"_

"_NO! Roxas, I'm serious about this."_

"_Calm down, Nam, you'll get a nose bleed."_

"…"

"_OK. I'll be serious…I'm serious! See, I can't change facial expressions because I'm just that serious. Now, come on. Make me promise to always be your friend."_

"…_Promise to never leave me."_

"…_OK."_

Roxas awoke with a start, his blue eyes snapping open in synch with the parting of his pale lips, with uttered a strangled gasp. His tired eyes were immediately exposed to the merciless glow of yellow sunlight, pouring in through the open window, and he winced away from the glare with an annoyed hiss. He was already well and truly awake but for the moment a reluctance to leave his dream kept him pinned to the bed, vacantly tracing the lines of the cracked ceiling with his eyes. He noticed a furious beating inside his chest, like a giant fist battering his ribcage from the inside, but taking deep breaths didn't seem to settle it; although he hadn't really thought it would. As the sunlight stung his tired eyes, Roxas's gaze flicked over to the clear glass of the window; not in any way expecting to see her, but still hoping he might. But the fact that he even checked made him feel undeniably pathetic.

Groaning, Roxas turned over and buried his face in the flat pillow.

His dreams had been filled with what he could only describe as his personal prescription for a bad day, but only because the vividness had led him to believe he was really back in that time. If it had been any other day, he might have just dismissed it as the result of loneliness and an overactive imagination. If he wasn't a thousand miles from home, he might have told himself that dreams meant nothing. But right then, laying in the warm glow of the early morning sun, with a somewhat serrated heart, he wanted her there beside him.

Being so fresh in his memory, the image of her was difficult to put from his mind. Her heart-shaped face, bright blue eyes, small and delicate nose, her pink lips turned up at the edges into a soft smile. It was all impossible to ignore, and after more than a month it was becoming harder to pretend he didn't miss her.

Roxas sighed and propped himself up on one elbow, the other arm raised to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. With a frown, he found himself scrutinising the scrawny limb, his slim fingers appearing uneven as the sunlight peeked through the thin spaces between them. It was a family trait, or rather curse, to be intolerably skinny. The fact may have bothered him less had he the physical capacity, or the diligence, for any kind of sports or exercise. It was a widely known fact on the islands that the Strife family, specifically the younger generation, passed out at the prospect of exercise. Naminé had often liked to tease Roxas for this, the kind of light-hearted banter that most lost with age. But not her.

"Aw, are you falling behind, Roxas?"

Heaving and stumbling over his own feet, Roxas would still summon the energy to glare. "Just keep walking, Lockheart."

Then, backwardly jogging in front of him, she would laugh. "But, Roxas; even if I walk I'll overtake you."

Groaning, Roxas heaved himself out of bed. He shrugged the mound of pillows from his back and shoulders and dragged both hands over his face, wiping away the memories before his mood could plummet any further. Lacking any energy to shower, he simply dragged himself over to the dresser and pulled on whatever clothes his hands found. However, what his hands found was his brother's blue and black plaid button up shirt, and dark jeans with an itchy hem.

"Roxas…?"

Roxas glanced across the room, one eyebrow raised, and met the curious gaze of his younger brother. Ven was sat up in his bed, rubbing one of his bleary eyes with a loosely clenched fist. His bed was in the shadows of the room, but he still winced as his eyes met the frame of light that was the window.

They hadn't always shared a room, and Roxas was still adjusting to a life without privacy. It was especially hard now, consider how low their relationship had remained in the weeks since Ven's 'Accident', as they had decided to call it. Maybe it was how long he had hid his anger, or how the rest of his family was pretending it never happened, but Roxas could feel the claws of anger tearing at his stomach a little more every day.

"Morning," Roxas grunted, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt. They were pretty much the same height and weight, despite Ven being two years younger, so the shirt fit fine.

"Where're you going?" Ven asked tiredly.

Roxas glanced at the alarm clock by his bed, a single second movement that Ven didn't notice. "I'm meeting Olette at ten," he lied smoothly. "She wants me to help with her summer homework."

Ven chuckled. "Only Olette would do homework at the start of the summer break."

_Not only Olette_, Roxas thought.

"Yeah, I guess. I'll see you later."

"Wait a sec," Ven called, stopping Roxas before he could leave. He slid out of bed, groggy but persistent, his eyes narrowed with undisguised suspicion. "Mind if I join you?" he challenged.

Roxas shrugged casually. "Sure, but you should go see Sora first." He shifted from one foot to the other, a nervous habit that didn't go by unnoticed. "He wants to ask you about something boring."

_Why didn't he ask yesterday?_ Ven wanted to ask. But what he said was, "Fine."

Roxas stepped aside, allowing Ven to pass into the hallway ahead of him. His younger brother usually hid his emotions very well, especially anger; He wasn't even attempting to disguise his anger now. His usual placid mask was gone, replaced by pounding footsteps, rigid limbs and gritted teeth. It was almost comical.

Ven let out a deep breath as he neared Sora's room. He found it rather hard to believe that Sora had anything to ask him, mostly due to the fact that they had barely spoken since Sora came back from the islands. He took sanctuary in his room, retreating away from whatever pain he felt over losing Kairi. Ven didn't understand that pain. He hadn't yet felt it. But something told him that in amongst the confusion and heartbreak, Sora hadn't decided he wanted to ask his little brother 'something boring'.

Ven turned at the end of the hall without a backwards glance. But if he had cared to check, he would have seen that Roxas was gone.

* * *

Uncomfortably, Roxas lay on the ledge at the edge of the clocktower, staring down at Twilight Town. The view from here was pretty amazing, he reluctantly admitted to himself. He could look out of the rooftops, the slopes and the curves of the sandy-coloured streets. The bright glow of the sun, reflected off the house windows, gleamed in a way similar to when the sunlight bounced off the waves on the islands. At the foot of the clocktower, a wide circular space was occupied by a group of children, a little younger than him, preparing to board the train - most likely heading to the market on Sunset Hill. Roxas could almost decipher their incoherent chatter, although it wasn't with much interest that he tried.

Sighing, Roxas closed his eyes. He had required a new sanctuary, since the secret place he shared with Naminé and the others was now a little less accessible to him. The clocktower was the perfect escape. It was his high-ground, and that gave him the same sense of security that their place on the islands had. He just wished he had his best friend to share it with. Roxas shifted uncomfortably, tracing a finger over the broken skin on his knuckles. He had torn the skin open after a fit of anger drove him to punch the wall of the clocktower. The blood was already drying across his knuckles, staining the pale skin. After the fury had passed Roxas found he only felt utterly empty; as though he'd beaten out any emotion with his fists. He wondered, now that he'd finally let the bottled rage out, if there was more to what happened with Ven than he knew. Certainly, his little brother wouldn't shy away from a fight; especially if his pride was concerned. One particular past experience told Roxas that. But Ven wasn't stupid enough to take on a group, no matter what they said.

"How did you find this place?"

Roxas started in surprise and he bolted upright, his eyes snapping open. Sora stood at the corner, his arms crossed and his lips turned up at the edges. He was always so calm and Roxas wondered how, with everything that had happened, he wasn't curled into a foetal position in the corner of his bedroom.

"How did you find me?" Roxas countered, frowning.

Sora chuckled. He walked forward and swung his legs over the ledge, sitting a good two feet from his younger brother. "I saw you from down there." He gestured towards the circle of ground beneath them. "I was all prepared to convince you not to jump, but it's just not worth it without a camera crew to capture my heroics."

Despite himself, Roxas smiled. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

Sora waved a hand. "You're forgiven."

Roxas laughed weakly. He drew in his legs and folded his arms over his knees. He had never been afraid of heights, and the sense that a strong gust of wind could potentially throw him off balance wasn't terrifying. "Why are you here?"

Sora shrugged, his lips pursed. "I came to find you."

"Yes, I can see that. But, why?"

He shrugged again. "Well, you ditched Ven for one thing; _And_ you're a mess at the moment," he said, unashamedly blunt. "And I wouldn't put it past you to do something stupid."

Roxas scoffed. "So you weren't joking about stopping me jumping?"

Sora chuckled. "No, I was. Even if you're suicidal, you're too considerate to make a mess."

Roxas frowned. "Talk about a backhanded compliment. And I'm not suicidal."

Beside him, Sora smirked. "You haven't talked to Naminé, have you?" he asked, being the all-knowing brother that Roxas missed.

He sighed. "I texted her…after Ven's accident."

Sora arched a single eyebrow. "You texted her?" he asked, mildly amused. "Naminé? Your best friend? The girl who poured glue in my hair for you?"

Roxas smiled slightly. "Let's not relive that incident."

"What'd you say?"

Roxas hesitated, awkwardly twirling and steepling his fingers in front of his face. "I said I miss her."

"OK…Am I overstepping my boundaries by asking why the hell you haven't called her?"

Roxas narrowed his eyes. "By a few metres, yes."

Sora sighed. "You realise you'll have to talk to her soon?"

Roxas groaned. "Yes, I know."

"It's the anniversary of mum's death. We have to go back."

"Yes, I know."

"It's impossible to avoid anyone on the islands."

"Yes, I _know_."

"You're not going to be-"

"_OK_, Sora," Roxas said tightly. "You don't need to stick your opinion on a neon sign, I get it. I know we're going back, and I'm not worried."

Sora raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever, man. I'm just offering my brotherly support."

"No," Roxas said. "You're being nosy."

"Psh! I'm not nosy. I may as well have no nose, for how much I'm not nosy."

Roxas rolled his eyes. "Do you think I should go see her…when we go?" he asked quietly, once again beginning to toy with his fingers.

There was a long pause, long enough the Roxas glanced up to make sure his brother was still sitting beside him. Sora, staring down at his laced fingers, looked suddenly, incredibly sad.

"I think it'd be the best idea you've had all year," Sora whispered; Roxas barely heard.

* * *

On Saturday morning, blanketed by the gentle warmth of the sun, Naminé was sat on the slanted trunk of a paopu tree.

The afternoon was slowly making its way towards her, although the light chill of the evening was a long way off yet. The sun was still warm on her face, casting a bright orange glow on her inner eyelids. Her vision was dotted with red spots, and her boredom had possessed her to attempt making figures for them. So far, she had turned what appeared to be shapeless smudges into a somewhat mangled t-shirt and a sheep with one leg. It wasn't the most mature of games, but it helped to pass the time. But she was getting sick of just that, passing time; especially when time crawled by at a snails pace, teasing her and passing seconds like minutes, and minutes like hours; All the while her chest felt like it was encased in a frozen piece of crystal. _I miss you_. She wondered what the significance was in a message like that? Maybe it was a joke; Someone had gotten hold of his phone and sent her the message to mess with her head. He hadn't contacted her in over a month, so why would he now? But plaguing her mind with thoughts like that only made the crystal tighten over her heart, so instead she thought of the sun and mangled shirts and sheep with missing limbs. It wasn't deep, and it wasn't altogether fascinating, but it wasn't Roxas either.

Blinking the spots from her eyes, Naminé eased herself to the ground, brushed grains of dirt from her shorts, and made the barely considered decision to head home. Her backpack thumped familiarly between her shoulder blades as she walked along the deserted beach, holding nothing but her iPod, her red converses, and an unused beach towel. Memories of running late for school hit her like individual bullets; running along the dirt path, her bag hitting her back, her hair brushing across her shoulders, and her laughter merging with Roxas's as he told her he was getting a cramp in his stomach.

_I miss you._

_I miss you._

_I miss you._

She didn't care how selfish it was; she wanted him to miss her. She needed to know he wasn't already singing for someone else and sharing secrets that she barely got out of him in ten years. If he was hurting, then maybe it wasn't so completely pathetic that she was hurting too.

On the mainland, Naminé switched her sandals for the converses in her backpack. The hard material rubbed at the bare skin of her heels, but the walk home was short enough that she could bare it. She would rather wear them than keep the sandals; she didn't go a day without them. More bullets hit Naminé and she took the dirt path home, closer to her heart every time: cutting her bare foot on broken glass, ten-year-old Roxas carrying her home on his back, joking that her feet smelt, cleaning the cut for her, buying red converses for her the next day, telling her she wouldn't have to go anywhere barefoot again.

_I miss you._

Naminé, pushing open the gate to the always well-kept garden, literally slapped away the tears that began stinging her eyes. What was the point?

And then her watery eyes played a trick on her.

She walked forward slowly, blinking away the tears that had already past to make room for confusion. She was seeing him as if through a window blurred by rapidly falling rain, or fogged by steam.

"Roxas?"

As if his name was a cue, he stood up from his seat on the porch stairs. Suddenly, Naminé was reminded of the last time she saw him. _I'll be seeing you…_

"Hi, Nam."

Naminé blinked stupidly. She felt like a living, breathing cliché and didn't care in the slightest. In the sunlight, his fair hair looked almost golden; It was a kind of halo at the back of his head. He was smiling.

But in the weeks that Naminé spent considering how this 'reunion' might go, she had been happy, and she had burst into tears and thrown herself into his arms, telling him how much she missed him.

But this was reality. And she was angry.

* * *

**I'm so happy I finished writing this. I kept starting, and then deleting everything because it was rubbish! =( well twentieth time's a charm =) I hope. Sorry if angry Namine wasn't wanted. Sorry if more Namixas moments were wanted. But there's plenty to come. And another bigs thanks to my reviewers for the last chapter**_, Kit-Kat-Wafer, silentmusic16, __Kiome-Yasha, LivingHerOwnFairyTale, Divine Wolfe, SorasKey_, and _Caxz. _**It means a lot =) **


End file.
